


Deserving

by TinCanTelephone



Series: From Tumblr, With <3 [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, lotta angst, some caretaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 03:58:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14824847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinCanTelephone/pseuds/TinCanTelephone
Summary: Cassian is good at running from demons. Jyn can't stop him, but it's too hard to stand by and watch.





	Deserving

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AstridMyrna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstridMyrna/gifts).



> Written for @thegiddyowl's prompt on tumblr: "You could have died." (FOR THE ANGST)
> 
> You ask for angst, and you shall receive angst… :P

Cassian hates painkillers.  _Hates_  them. He refuses them whenever he can, but the medical staff might be onto him because instead of releasing him with pills he’ll refuse to take, they release him still high on the longest-acting drug they have. They comm Jyn to take him back to his room, and he supposes he should be concerned when Bodhi shows up instead, but he’s too focused on staying upright to think about it. 

The painkiller makes the floor feel like it’s moving under him and Bodhi’s iron grip on his good arm is the only thing that keeps him standing as he stumbles back to his quarters. 

Bodhi’s mercifully silent on the way, although it’s not a pleasant silence. His face, when Cassian can bear to glance over, is stony and he’s staring straight ahead. Cassian wants to apologize, or at least try to explain himself, but he’s not so sure how coherent he’ll be if he attempts to talk now. 

Jyn’s already there when the door to his quarters slides open, standing by his bunk, arms crossed and glaring at them. Cassian swallows and wobbles inside. Bodhi stays in the hallway, shying away from the confrontation. 

“I… I’ll leave you in good hands,” he says.

Cassian tries to protest– if Bodhi stays, Jyn will probably temper her anger a bit for his sake, and Cassian might avoid what’s certain to be an extremely unpleasant conversation. 

But the door closes before he can say anything, so it’s just him and Jyn. 

“That was stupid.”

Stars, she’s not even going to wait until he’s sitting down? He moves carefully to the bed and lowers himself onto the end farthest from her, moving awkwardly backwards so he can lean against the wall so he can maintain some sense of which way is up. “I’m sorry.” he says. 

“You could’ve died.”

“But I didn’t.”

“But you  _could have_.”

“I’m okay.” He tries to smile at her, but he’s not sure how it turns out. His vision’s clearing up a bit, which is good, but he’s also starting to feel the throb of three torn ligaments in his recently re-located shoulder. Come to think of it, the broken wrist is also starting to itch under the stabilizer. 

She snorts. “You’re impossible.”

“Jyn–” He takes a deep breath, winces as it pulls on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I know I shouldn’t have–”

“Do you?” She suddenly advances on him. “Because I don’t think you understand what you do to the rest of us when you go on missions AMA and come back hurt  _again_.”

“It’s–”

“And don’t you dare say you  _had orders_  or it’s  _for the rebellion_. It’s bantha-shit, Cassian. It’s an excuse for you to run away from whatever drives you so crazy that you can’t sit still.” She pauses, foresees his next argument and continues. “And I know we all have our own unhealthy coping mechanisms, but yours is getting yourself hurt.” She’s so close her legs are almost touching his knees, and looking so angry he would lean back if he weren’t already against the wall.

“Jyn…” He’s never heard her say so much all at once. And he’s not sure what he could say.

But she doesn’t let him say anything, just storms out of the room before he can reply. 

 

The shame settles in that night, as he lies awake in the same grimy shirt because it’s not worth the pain of taking it off. Jyn’s words hurt, of course, because she’s right, and the cold, quiet walls of Home I remind him why he hates it here, where he can’t feel the hum of the ship from his bed. Where he could be anywhere, floating through space with no direction in this cold, quiet box. 

With no direction or purpose– with no hyperspace calculations to do or cover to memorize– he starts to see faces. Mostly they’re people he’s lied to, betrayed, or killed. He doesn’t remember all of them clearly, which makes him feel worse, but he can tell the fuzzy outlines are accusatory, angry, heartbroken. Lives he’s destroyed for the increasingly nebulous Cause. This time, he sees  _her_  face too, sharp and clear as day before him, looking so horrified he knows that she can see all other the faces, too. She knows what he’s done, and what he really is. 

He wakes in a cold sweat, shoulder screaming, and all the blankets tossed to the floor. He doesn’t pick them up.

 

* * *

 

Appropriately, he thinks, he doesn’t see Jyn for three full days after that. He doesn’t look for her, or try to apologize again. Mostly because he doesn’t think she’ll forgive him this time. 

He wouldn’t (he doesn’t). 

But it’s partly to punish himself. He knows seeing her, talking to her, trying to fix things, would help distract from the pain. 

So he hides in his quarters like a coward, goes to the mess when she knows she won’t be there, and tries to figure out how to get by with one arm. But even walking feels uneven, and he wants to believe it’s more than the fact that she’s not by his side. 

It’s her, of course, that reaches out first. Because she’s braver than him, always has been. He’s standing in the ‘fresher, the door open, when she slices the lock to his quarters. 

He jumps and the razor clatters onto the sink. He’d been contemplating the risk of shaving with his left hand, wondering what Kay would give the odds of him slicing his carotid artery by mistake. 

Jyn can see all this, of course. He lets his thoughts show all over his face because he can’t find the words to tell her how sorry he his– for what he’s done, for who he is, that she doesn’t deserve him. 

But she just shakes her head in that stubborn way that says she still believes he’s worth it. She crosses the room without saying a word, picks up the razor, and pushes on his good shoulder so he sits down on the closed toilet.

“You’ll cut your neck open,” she murmurs, picking up the soap. She uses her fingers to nudge his chin up and he closes his eyes. 

Cassian knows he’s not quite forgiven, but through the sound of water filling the sink and Jyn’s hands on his cheeks, it’s harder to see the faces that usually haunt him. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](https://cats-and-metersticks.tumblr.com/post/173846414800/32-you-could-have-died-for-the-angst)
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! And for comments/kudos :) 
> 
>  
> 
> Come say hi on my tumblr- [cats-and-metersticks](https://cats-and-metersticks.tumblr.com/) :)


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